Masochist...

I'm getting the urge, stronger and stronger every day, to go get more ink slammed in my skin. Let this be a warning to anyone who's ever contemplated getting a tattoo, they are addictive. My goal is to have my whole backpiece done by 2008, and I'm tossing around some ideas in my head basing off of a Japanese theme, with either bansai trees above a koi pond, or something totally different, though the Japanese theme goes well with the Kanji up my spine. It's all going to be done in black white and grey, unless my tat artist and I come up with another idea.

If anyone has any skills with drawing detailed shading and accurate representation of Japanese culture, including previously mentioned ideas for my backpiece... Please, send me an email. I'll totally credit the original piece to you, and when it's done, you'll know that you've got an original, appreciated piece of artwork limning someone's back.

I've got the opportunity to get my tat's touched up for free,par for the course with getting a tat done in most parlours. The thing is, I want to go strictly to feel the pain of the needle freshing up the ink if it's needed, and I know my shoulder needs some work. This frightens me a little, but in a way I know I'm the sort of person that gets a little thrill from a bit of pain. Tug on my hair during sex at the right time, and I'm three times friskier. (And there IS a right way and wrong way to tug hair, make no mistake. You do it the wrong way, and your S.O.L. and fast on the way to a solo session, with a very snarky bedmate rubbing her sore scalp.)

I also have to go get my navel repierced, seeing as they fucked up the first time they pierced me, going too high, creating more of a surface piercing. Needless to say I was pissed off about the whole scenario, and if it didn't cost me 85 bucks for the jewelery and the piercing that was non-refundable and non-transferable, I sure as hell wouldn't be getting my navel done again, I'd be getting something else taken care of that cost the same amount. *Ahem...*

Anyways...

Don't worry. I'm not the sort to get a razor and start dragging it into my skin. I don't dig scars, and I don't like blood all that much. Oh, and y'know, I'm NOT fucked right the hell up. I guess it's just an aquired taste that toys with the senses when you surrender to a tattoo artist or piercer. If you think about it, your putting your body into their hands and hoping they don't fuck up. It's a serious trust thing, and you have to give into the notion that they COULD fuck up. They could cover your skin with permanant markings that you can only cover up. Maybe that's a masochistic/thrill thing too... Hrm.

...

Here's where I hit a revelation in the middle of writing, since this is a post where I'm rambling, and more or less typing to hear the keys rattle. Now, I try my damnedest to control the happenstances around me, so that things turn out the way that suits not only myself, but everyone involved in the situation. Please note I said TRY, and that sometimes, I don't succeed. So maybe for me it IS a release. I give in, and let things go the way they will. You know what? I find that most of the time, things aren't going to fuck up. Most of the time.

I know, I know. I'm not making much sense. I really haven't been lately, and hell, I don't even smoke dope. This is a stream of conciousness, I'm too tired to bother editing, and as soon as I hit that bright shiny orange "publish" button, I'm crawling my sorry, sleep deprived, LONELY ass to bed, throwing my goosedown duvet over my head and sleeping until six am.

Oh. And if you happen to run into Devin somewhere in the next little while, tell him I miss him.